


Knocking on Heaven's Door

by SarahAlex



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Insecurity, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahAlex/pseuds/SarahAlex
Summary: Post FBaWtF: You took Credence under your wing, promising to yourself and the world that you are going to take care of him....If only you leaned how to knock.





	1. Chapter 1

The cry that she hears is low and throaty, it sounds as if Credence is in some kind of terrible pain. That’s why she doesn’t even bother with magic when she nearly kicks the door open, mentally readying herself to see him suffering terrifying consequences of some hex… but honestly, she is not… she could never be… ready to see the boy with his head thrown back, revealing the pale length of his neck; not ready to see him dripping with sweat, his hand down his pants.

She closes the door shut as quickly as she opens them, but nevertheless, she still realizes she will have that image burnt in her mind forever. She takes a couple of deep breaths and then walks back into the living room, where she can pour herself a shot of firewhisky… or ten.

Credence comes to her when she’s down to her third glass. She has seen people crying over their dead loved ones, she’s seen parents finding out their child is going to die. None of them. No one… has ever looked so broken and mortified as the boy when he walks into the room with his belt folded in his trembling hands. He kneels before her, head bowed down, probably because he feels that he cannot face her right now… and she looks at him through the brown liquor, already slightly buzzed, but still not drunk enough to just take him on the floor and at least give him a good reason to tremble.

“Ma’am… p-please, punish me as y-you see fit,” he whispers, sounding like someone who is about to burst into tears, but is trying very hard not to.

She puts her glass away, sits up on the chair, noticing how all the muscles in his body tense up when she moves… and then she takes the belt from his open palms, caressing it like one probably would a beloved pet snake. This damned strip of leather has caused so much pain both to the animal it came from and to the boy it used to harm in the service of his so called mother, that… If she could, she would burn it. Instead, she reaches for Credence’s palms and gently traces the old, healed scars with her fingers, enjoying the way it makes his breath hitch in his throat. Then she moves again, from the chair to the ground right in front of him. It seems to scare him, being on the same eye level as her again, but before he can look away, she touches his cheek with her left hand and gently holds his head in place.

“Sweetie, look at me,” she orders him, quietly, but with force.

And boy, does he know how to obey a command without thinking.

“I am not going to punish you, you did nothing wrong,” she explains, noticing the way he shakes his head in pure disbelief.

“But… mother used to say…” He pauses and then, suddenly, panics again. “It… was only one time before, but she had walked upon me just like you did and…”

Lord, knowing Mary Lou, that must have ended up in a blood bath. If the woman hadn’t been dead already, she would be wishing she was right now.

“Your mother also believed that magic is wrong and was, overall, not a very nice person. So, who do you trust more?” she interrupts him and she can see how he struggles with that – he wants to believe her, he wants to, so bad, but she is not naive enough to think he can drop years of brainwashing and abuse just because she asks him to.

Credence stays quiet for a long time before he suddenly crumbles on the floor, ending up half sitting on his calves, half lying on the ground.

“Ma’am… there’s more,” he whispers to the floor, brokenly. “I… I was… thinking o-of you. B-both times.”

Well, fuck everything. Fuck her life, fuck her integrity, fuck every good intention she has ever had towards him. Fuck the blood in her mouth, pouring from the inner side of her lip that she has just bit through.

Instead, she ruffles his raven hair, pretending that she doesn’t mind the way her approaching hand makes him flinch and then whispers right back:

“That’s alright. Thank you for telling me.”

She lets him rest on the ground for a little longer, then helps him up and into his bedroom again, rigidly answering “Please, don’t be,” to each and every of his I-am-sorry-s. He drinks his Dreamless Sleep potion there, without her asking, and once she makes sure he is sound asleep, she collects the bottle from downstairs and locks herself in her own bedroom.

She ends up mortal drunk that night – at one point she considers just apparating into the nearest bar, picking up a man and fucking him in the bathroom. She considers contacting Graves, tempting him to a booty call. But every time she’s about to, she remember how he knelt in front of her holding his belt like a sacrifice to the gods. She remembers his watery gaze and the shivers running through his body.

And so she just drinks herself to a shallow sleep full of tentative touches and forbidden things.


	2. The Prequel

For the second time that night, Credence finds himself huddled in a corner of a dark room, sobbing uncontrollably.

_Did you really think that a woman like her would be interested in someone like you? She’s just using you, sweet-talking you to get to the child, so she can harm it. And you don’t want that, do you? Another child suffering a fate they don’t deserve. Surely, you must realize I am your only true friend, Credence, only I can…_

“Help me,” he cries out softly, even though he knows that this time, no one will come. And he doesn’t deserve her help anyway, not after he had betrayed her.

_You’re a squib, Credence. Unteachable. Your mother is dead, that’s your reward._

“Help me...” He thinks of her soft smiles and the way she looked at him sometimes, like he was something precious. He also remembers the way her face became unreadable and cold and expressionless when he stumbled towards Mr. Graves… or Grindelwald or whoever the man actually was. When he chose him, instead of her.

_I am done with you._

A sharp sound cuts through the air and he flinches –  first, because the poor light does not allow him to recognize who it is that  has  found him, and then because it suddenly does.

_The physical pain is nothing, he has been through much worse than a slap. It is the betrayal that stings. That, and the realization that unlike her, he won’t be able to hide it behind a mask._

“Credence, are you alright? What happened? Is anything hurting you?” she kneels down next to him and he turns his head without thinking, giving her a better access to his cheek, as if that could ever be enough.

“Please, help me,” he repeats quietly through his tears, unable to say anything else.

“Yes, of course I will help you, just...” Instead of slapping him, she slumps down on the cold ground next to him and pulls him into an embrace. 

_I trusted you._

“Take your time.” She ruffles his hair and her hand seems to be shaking, but maybe it only seems to him that way, because he is trembling himself. 

_I thought you were my friend._

“Breathe.” He can feel her heart beating into his ear and it’s the only kind of beating in the world he believes he doesn’t deserve.


End file.
